


The Manor House

by supernaturallysherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallysherlocked/pseuds/supernaturallysherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's addicted, Sebastian doesn't know how long he can stand it. platonic Mormor so far, rated for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Manor House

Jim peeked through a hole in the curtain, a grin flickering at the corners of his lips as he watched the familiar merc roll down the drive. his step now a little lighter, the criminal slipped over to the dusty sofa, chuckling as he examined his surroundings for the hundredth time that day. Jim Moriarty was sat in what used to be thew living room of the manor, which was now riddled with rot and peeling wall paper where there used to be intricate gold finery and expensive carpets. he sipped from a delicate china mug and waited impatiently for the car's occupant to arrive, tapping his feet anxiously. Sebastian trudged up to the broken door and prised it open, sliding the entire thing a meter to the sde before stepping through and replacing it. he stopped outside the closed door to the living room and listened, checking his boss actually was inside before swinging open the door. Jim looked up at the noise to be greeted by the sight of his favourite sniper leaning against the door frame, grin on his face. "Your late." Seb chuckled and fell into a moulding chair beside Jim.

"Why, ya' miss me"

"Barely noticed you were gone."

" _sure_." Jim couldn't stop himself laughing at Sebastian's sarcasam; he never let anyone sass him, but Seb was an exception. After a long pause the sniper stood awkwardly and headed towards the door, "going to practice..." He said, shooting the criminal one last look before turning out of sight. Jim sipped his tea again, now a little sulkily, and paced around the room, immediately bored again now that his entertainment had left him for a few tin cans on a fence post. As he came to his shed, Sebastian wearilly pulled his favourite pistol out of its holster under his arm and carried it loosely before unlockingthe door and hanging it with the others. Humming lightly, the sniper chose a rifle he rarely used and took it back outside, careful to lock the door again behind him. It wasn't that he didnt trust Jim with weapons, in fact he was normally trying to pursuade his boss to carry a pistol, but if the criminal had one of his 'turns' and found it unlocked- in any case, it was imperitive that the shed was secure. Sebastian headed slowly dwn to a line of fence he'd built when jim first bought thed house and sat several battered cans on the bars, trying to make it a little more difficult.

* * *

Jim was left sitting on the dust red sofa, bored again. After a minute or so, the china cup slipped between his fingers, cracking as it hit the bare floor boards. He chuckled fleetingly and watched the cooling liquid running down the cracks and chips in the wood for a while before standing slowly and creeping into the kitchen at the other side of the house. Jim made sure he was out of sight as he peered around the edge of the window to see that Sebastian was still busy with his 'toys' in the garden. Chuckling, James snuck back into the living room, crept out of the window and headed straight into the cluster of thick trees that sandwiched the long overgrown drive.

His pace slowed to a walk once he was out of sight of the manor, heading deeper into the woodland as he headed towards the old games keeper's hut. James plucked his headphones out of his pocket, shoved them in his ears and switched some Bach as he reached the heavy front door. He heaved it open and lurched inside, where he found his familiar deck chair in the center of the barren room with a green tin at it's feet. James chuckled and half skipped over to the chair, grabbing the tin gleefully. He hummed lightly along to the tune as he slipped off his left shoe, flicking open the base and removing the key to the tin before replacing it. He unlocked the tin to reveal over a hundred pre-rolled 'cigars' and twenty or thirty matchbooks. He picked one at random with an entire matchbook, thoughtfully placing the tin on the floor. James stroke a match against the tiny slip of sandpaper, idly watching the flame for a moment, allowing it to burn his forefinger badly before lighting the 'cigar' and blowing it out. Thoughtfully, he rubbed the burnt finger against his thumb and brought the 'cigar' to his lips, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke twist back out of his lips. James's hand scrabbled slightly against the screen of his phone as he turned up the volume, surrendering himself to the high as Bach's symphony took over. Sebastian grew bored mush faster than usual, hitting every target with infuriating ease. He sighed heavily and replaced the rifle in the shed, grabbing his pistol and tucking it in his waistband before locking up and heading back up to the house. He paused at the door and turned back to admire the view before no doubt spending the rest of the evening inside the dim Manor with his boss. he sighed again before heading back to the living room, where Jim rarely strayed from.

"Hey Boss, I-" Sebastian stopped in his tracks as he stepped into the empty room, pausing for a second before growling under his breath and turning to search the rest of the house. Ten minutes of frantic searching later Seb was stuck between fear and anger for Jim, so he resolved to search the house grounds. He nearly passed by the decrepit hut before doubling back, marching over to the lopsided door. better safe then sorry. He stopped outside the door and listened carefully, his knees almost buckling with relief when he heard the familiar buzzing of headphones before he heaved open the door. "For Christ sake, Boss, I've been look-" His voice caught in his throat as he stared into the room. James was passed out in the deck chair, the ground around him littered with heaps of ash and burnt out matches. He was slumped heavily in the chair with a badly burnt right arm hanging just over a still-smouldering match on the floor, the skin of his entire hand raw and blistered. Sebastian's expression was a mixture of worry, anger and disgust as he stared at his boss, still standing in the doorway. After a moment, he stumbled forwards, as if only just realising what to do, and carefully lifted Jim out of the chair, a small green tin falling out of the criminal's lap as he did so. The contents spilled out as the tin clattered to the floor, rolling all over the small room. Sebastian kicked it with disgust and left it on the floor, anger taking over as he carried Jim back towards the manor.

* * *

Jim woke jerkily, now back on the sofa in damp the living room, almost falling off it altogether. A pair of firm hands caught the criminal and rolled him onto his back, their owner grumbling. "Be careful, Jesus.." Sebastian growled, "Or have you forgotten, again?" the sniper virtually spat his words in disgust as he shifted to his feet, already prepared and more than willing to dive straight into an argument.

"No, not now, Seb, please. wait a while..." Jim twisted under Sebastian's glare, his head spinning and his gut churning as the light invaded his vision. Jim curled into a ball, Hiding his face with a cushion.

"No, _James_ , now.- Actually, y'know what?" Sebastian grabbed the cushion and hurled it across the room, kicking the coffee table in his anger. Jim peered at him from under his arm, biting his lip apprehensively. "Every time you do this, every time, you lie. you say your gonna stop, then you just do it anyway." he laughed hollowly for a second, "And I always have to fix you up, _every_ time. And d'you know what'd happen if I didn't? if I just _stopped_ helping? you'd die. kill yourself." he laughed again, his voice cracking slightly, "Well, not any more. Fuck this, and fuck you." Sebastian stormed out of the Manor towards the garden, slamming every door he came across.

Jim watched him go before groaning loudly and rolling off the the sofa, trying to follow the sniper, only to double over in a wave of nausea and pass out on the floor. Sebastian stamped back to his shed, growling as he unlocked it and grabbed the rifle again, leaving it unlocked. screw Jim Moriarty, if he shoots himself, fine. The sniper trampled deep into the forest before finally coming to a stop, sweating in what was left of the day's heat. Seb sunk down against the base of a tree, dropped the gun to his side and drew his knees up to his chest as his temper began to simmer away.

After what could have easily been five minutes or two hours Seb slowly got up, finally calm enough to hunt. the land belonging to the manor house didn't have much game or deer, But for Sebastian finding them was almost as fun as pulling the trigger. Seb hunted for half an hour or so before slowing to a stop by the shimmering water of the lake, drawn in by the reflection of the sunset.

\----------

Jim woke a few hours later face down on the wooden floor boards of the living room, still with a blinding headache but now more than capable of walking around. Primarily, Jim never bothered to follow Sebastian when he was angry, but today there was a possibility that the Sniper may have actually left. He stood stiffly ans streched, groaning as he thought over Sebastian's words. Jim knew he wouldn't have stayed in the house, Sebastian had a profound love of the outdoors, but after that the criminal had no idea where his sniper was. The house was surrounded by nearly a mile of land, including the forest and lake, so Seb could be anywhere. Jim slowly climbed up the stairs, hoping to be able to spot Sebastian from the roof, if no where else. Jim opened the rusty metal door with some effort and swung it against it's hinges, squinting in the light of the setting sun as he walked to the edge of the roof. After a moment he spotted a dark figure at the far side of the lake, sitting against a tree. Jim grinned triumphantly and rushed back into the house, picking up a pair of sunglasses and a bottle of asprin on his way out the door. Jim quickly poured the contents of the bottle into his hand and choked down the pills, tossing the empty pack into a cluster of shrubbery as he reached the first few trees. Sebastian heard his bosses heavy footsteps in the distance and groaned, absorbing the last of the peace through closed eyes before regaining his composure and pretending he hadn't heard anything. Jim sat down against the tree by Seb, who instantly shifted away.

"Seb..."

"No."

"Seb-"

"No. No, James, I've had enough."

"...It's Jim."

"Is it?" Sebastian glared at him pointedly until Jim turned away, disheartened.

"Yeah, I just..."

"Just what?" Sebastian turned on him aggressively,

"Just _another_ mistake?" he rolled his eyes and turned back to the lake, repulsed. Jim said nothing in reply, just examining their surroundings curiously for a few minutes.

"What's that in the water?" Seb looked up, a little perplexed at the unexpected question.

"Fish."

"yeah, but which kind?" Sebastian squinted at the darkening pool for a moment before answering.

"Trout." Jim nodded seriously at him in reply, looking around for something else.

"how about that?" he pointed to a group of several tall pink bell shaped flowers.

"Fox gloves. Don't touch them," he caught Jim's outstretched hand roughly, "poisonous. Idiot..." he chuckled before remembering he was supposed to be angry with Jim. He dropped his hand quickly and turned back to the lake. Jim yawned loudly on purpose, now sure of himself, and shuffled over to Sebastian, resting his head on the sniper's shoulder. When he didn't flinch Jim took his chance and crept into the much larger man's lap, curling into a tight ball and drifting into a light sleep before Seb could raise a finger to stop him. Sebastian stared at his boss incredulously for a moment before stroking Jim's hair. He had to give him some credit, no matter how pissed he got that slick bastard always managed to turn the tables on him, with infuriating ease.


End file.
